


Reluctant

by INMH



Series: Merry Month of Masturbation Fills (2016) [15]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Drama, Hate Sex, Humor, In a sense anyway, M/M, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, One-Sided Relationship, Other, Sex Dreams, Sexual Content, Strong Language, Vague Spoilers, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 17:12:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6865582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s weird to be jealous of your dad’s dead friend. It’s even weirder to jerk-off while thinking of him. Vague Civil War spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reluctant

Tony really, really hates Captain America.  
  
He hates the way his dad talks about him.  
  
“Damn, that guy was impressive.”  
  
“Greatest man I ever worked with.”  
  
“Glad to have known him.”  
  
This from a guy who, when people say, “How’s Tony?”, he joking-but-not-really replies, “Tony who?”  
  
Fucking Captain America.  
  
He hates the way he’s portrayed.  
  
Because in any given history book, newspaper article, blurb, chat, interview, smoke-signal, interpretive dance, you could easily interchange “Captain America” with Jesus Christ and it wouldn’t sound strange.”  
  
“Captain America was so brave and generous.”  
  
“Captain America was a miracle.”  
  
“Captain America was a blessing unto this earth.”  
  
“Captain America will return to smite the wicked and bring the faithful up to heaven.”  
  
“Tony,” Rhodey warns, setting his comic down on his lap and fixing Tony with a pointed look. “My mother raised me to be a good Christian boy, and I’m gonna have to slap you if you step much further with the blasphemy.”  
  
“But you get my point.”  
  
“Don’t know how much better you could _make_ your point.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“And I think you’ve got _way_ too much energy pouring into hating a guy you’ve never met.”  
  
Tony hates how people tell him that.  
  
A lot.  
  
When he’s eighteen, he dares to say that Captain America isn’t (wasn’t) so great, and Howard Stark launches into what is arguably one of the most stinging tirades of Tony’s relatively young life. Words like “useless” and “aimless” and “impulsive” and “selfish” (yeah, the hypocrisy of that last one bites particularly hard) are thrown around, and Tony limps away like a kicked dog without so much as a witty one-liner in return.  
  
Tony really, really hates Captain America.  
  
And so it kind of surprises him when the wet-dreams start.  
  
At first, he chalks it up to stress. He’s in his senior year of college, and genius or not, MIT is demanding of all its students.  
  
And as much as he hates him, Captain America is not exactly hard to look at.  
  
So when Tony wakes up mid-way through the illustrious Captain sucking him off, he just lies there for a few seconds, _what the fuck_ , and then hesitantly finishes himself off.  
  
Stress. It was stress.  
  
Really, really hot stress.  
  
Misdirected sexual frustration, that sounds like something the psychologist he used to see (at his mom’s insistence) might say.  
  
Totally normal, and in no way an indicator that you have a major boner for someone you’ve actively hated since the age of ten.  
  
Until, of course, it happens when he’s staying at Rhodey’s apartment.  
  
He wakes up on Rhodey’s couch, humping the cushions. Rhodey is banging half-heartedly on the wall. “Dude, you sound like a cat in heat! Take a cold shower or something!”  
  
And Tony does. But the image of himself pounding into Captain America’s ass is just persistent enough that he ends up jerking off in the shower and praying to all hell that Rhodey doesn’t figure out and murder him for doing so.  
  
He does figure out, and Tony is treated to Rhodey’s I’m-Gonna-Kill-You-Tony Glare™ for the rest of his stay.  
  
Okay. Still not… Out of the realm of normalcy.  
  
Entirely.  
  
He’s still in the ballpark.  
  
Sort of.  
  
Maybe.  
  
It’s not unusual to have the odd sex-dream every now and then, right? He’s had them about women before. And men. Hell, he had a really _weird_ one about Rhodey when he went to join the Air Force. This isn’t so unusual.  
  
The dreams come sporadically over the next several years. Everything will be fine, no mention of the Great American Wonder; and then, suddenly, he’ll wake up with his hands down his sleeping pants and shuddering from the too-real feeling of hands on his hips and teeth on his neck.  
  
Sometimes it’s not just a dream. At least twice now he’s talked in his sleep, only to wake up and find Bed Partner of the Week glaring at him and saying “Who’s _Steve?_ ”  
  
Not Captain; _Steve_.  
  
Tony chooses not to examine the implications of that.  
  
When he starts seeing Pepper, the dreams still occur. If he talks in his sleep, she doesn’t say anything about it. If he groans or whimpers or thrusts his hips in his sleep, she doesn’t say anything about that either, possibly chalking it up to Tony’s usual active libido.  
  
Most of the dreams are pretty typical, as far as sex-dreams go, but some are a bit more… _Intense_ than others. Like most dreams, really- some feel more real than others, some stick around like a memory instead of fading away.  
  
One comes when Pepper is out of town visiting family, and Tony is alone in bed. Thank God, or she’d have had a lot of very difficult questions for him in the morning.  
  
In this episode of Tony Stark is Such a Horn-Dog That He Wants to Have Sex with People He Hates, Captain Rogers is straddling his thighs and smirking the way he does in some of the pictures his dad showed him once.  
  
“Geez, kid,” He says, and it’s hysterical because Tony is now sixteen years older than the Captain was when he disappeared. “You’re having a good time, aren’t you?”  
  
“Oh, fuck you,” Tony groans, because he really doesn’t need teasing from a figment of his imagination.  
  
“Gladly,” and so Captain America, leader of the United States forces in the glorious war against Hitler, pounds Tony’s ass like a punching-bag. And since this is a dream, Tony doesn’t have a whole lot of ability to stop himself from yowling like a goddamn cat (thank you Rhodey, he will forever remember that turn of phrase).  
  
The dream is so intense that he is actually shocked out of it, and Tony’s hands fly to his cock and jerk and jerk until he comes onto the bed, groaning and shaking and for a brief, brief moment thinking, _you know, honestly, I wouldn’t actually mind living that one out in real life._  
  
Sex does bad, bad things to his brain.  
  
The thought is so sacrilegious, in fact, that the universe hits him in the gut with a karmic punch so strong that it takes the goddamn wind out of him.  
  
The phone rings. Tony is surprised to hear Fury’s voice on the other end; usually when the guy wants something he just strolls right into Tony’s house or office.  
  
“Stark.”  
  
“Fury. To what do I owe this long-distance communication?”  
  
Fury chuckles, and it sends _dread_ through every inch of Tony’s being.  
  
“You’re not gonna believe who we pulled out of the ice, Stark.”  
  
God. Damn. It.  
  
-End


End file.
